Flying With You
by possiblycrazee
Summary: Very AU. During WW2, a flight team runs into some problems behind enemy lines in France. Mainly starring Jack and Zack.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Flying With You

**Author: **Hawkeye/Katy

**Beta: **Alex/Odysseus, Nox/BJ

**Fandom: **Bones, but very AU.

**Rating: **FRT

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

Flight Lieutenant Jack Hodgins shifted his weight on his bar-stool, one hand propped on his chin, the other curled around his glass. He shot a crooked smile at the bartender, a fresh-faced Corporal, and shook his head when the man tipped the bottle at him in a silent question. He was meeting his new navigator tomorrow. He sighed, staring into the glass as if it would give him the answers. That was not an experience Jack was looking forward to.

His new navigator. A rookie, fresh out of flight training. He shook his head. At least they'd found someone who would fly with him this time. A wry grin curled his mouth as he glanced towards the door, picturing his plane, his baby, his Helldiver. Quite possibly the biggest piece of crap in the hangar. Held together by curses, patchwork and prayers. The wry grin grew wider as he thought about all the planes he could be flying, given his name and his heritage. The Irishman shook his head again, wondering how long this one would take before either fear or frustration drove him away.

The redhead scooped up his hat, "I'm out for the night, Charlie…" he shot a cheeky smile at the Corporal, "Can't be meetin' my new navigator with a hangover, now, so I can't."

The Corporal smiled back, "OK, sir, take care…" then carried on polishing the glasses.

Next morning found Jack standing at a pathetic imitation of parade rest in front of his CO's desk. Wing Commander Goodman shot Jack a filthy look, which the redhead returned with a raised eyebrow. The Wing Commander sighed and shook his head. Both men looked up as the bell above the office door jangled impatiently. Goodman called a terse 'enter' and looked back at Jack, shooting him a warning look, as the door edged open.

A tousled, curly head poked through, "Sir?" followed by a lean, slim-hipped body and nervous hands, tightly clutching a hat, "Fly… Flying Officer Zackary Addy, reporting for duty, sir."

Jack fought the urge to roll his eyes as Goodman gave the young man a genial smile, "Come in, son… This is Flight Lieutenant Jack Hodgins. One of the best pilots in Her Majesty's Air Force. You'll be flying with him," the smile gave way to a curious look, "They tell me you're good, damn good."

The nervous looking Flying Officer shifted uneasily, "Yes sir. I'd heard that too, sir," he blushed furiously at his comment and the Wing Commander's raised eyebrow.

"Yes…" Goodman drew out, still eyeing off the blushing young man in front of him, "Well, I'll let the two of you get acquainted. Hodgins, Addy… you're dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

"Aye, sir."

The two moved out of the Wing Commander's office, Jack raising an eyebrow at the bags outside the door. His new navigator had obviously just arrived; poor bugger hadn't even been shown his barracks yet. He watched as the boy, Zack, he amended, scooped one rucksack onto his shoulder, grabbed the other one in his left hand, gathered together a small pile of maps in his right and sighed in frustration as he realized he had no hands left to pick up his suitcase. Jack bit back a smile and reached down, picking up the suitcase himself and heading for the door, leaving Zack no choice but to follow. Zack blushed and hurried after him, embarrassed.

"Sir, you don't have to… I mean… I could've…" he stammered out.

"For starters, lad, you couldn't have…" the pilot shot him a grin, "You'd run outta hands," Jack replied, stopping in front of the barracks the navigator would be sharing with him and nudging open the door.

"Sorry, sir… I mean…" if it were possible, Zack's face went even redder.

"Another thing…" Jack sighed, dropping the suitcase by Zack's bed and carefully helping the other man unload some of his other bags, "Don't be callin' me 'sir'… I've seen your file, Zack, up until maybe 3 months or so ago, you were a Flight Lieutenant yourself. As far as I'm concerned, we're as equal as it gets."

"But… sir…" the young Flying Officer protested.

Jack sighed, "No sir… I'm Jack… Hodgins if you're cranky with me," he grinned, "So, most likely, I'll be Hodgins a lot of the time. People tell me I'm not an easy man to like."

Zack broke into a shy, unwilling grin, "People can be wrong. But if it's any consolation, they tell me I'm not an easy person to like either."

The rather unlikely friendship begun, the two set about unpacking Zack's bags. They worked in companionable silence for a while, before Jack asked the question that had been bothering him since the tousle-haired young man had eased his way into the Wing Commander's office and into Jack's life.

"What happened?"

"What was that, s… Jack?" Zack's answer was muffled, his head buried in his second rucksack.

"You went from Flight Lieutenant to Flying Officer in the space of, what, two days?" the redhead said, hanging the other man's dress uniform up in the small wardrobe next to his own, "What happened?"

He winced as Zack abruptly went still, "Ah lad, I didn't mean to pry. If you don't want to tell me, you don't…"

Zack interrupted him, rocking back on his heels, the bitter smile curling his lips at odds with the innocence of his face, "I was too good at my job…"

Jack frowned, "They took away your rank and your job, coz you were good at it?"

Zack shook his head, "I was a codebreaker. A good one. I've yet to come across a code, either enemy or friendly, that I can't break in under an hour," a shy smile curled the corners of his mouth at Jack's impressed whistle, "And most of my superiors appreciated that."

There was a raised eyebrow from Jack, "Most?"

"Yes, there were a few who believed that the only way I could break enemy codes so quickly is if I wrote them," he rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Those same few accused me of being a double agent when I pointed out that I could also break friendly codes written by other codewriters in the department."

Jack shook his head sympathetically, "'Tis true… put some costume jewellery on a man's shoulder and he thinks he can piss Cognac," he grinned at Zack's surprised snort of laughter.

When their laughter died down, Jack waved a hand at the other man, "So, why'd they ditch ya, Zack? Seems to me, you shoulda been the one they held onto with all they had," a small smile curled the redhead's mouth, "Not that I'm complainin' a' course… I get myself the best navigator the world's ever seen, by the looks…"

Zack sighed, "Codebreaking was too easy. It became repetitive. Then after I was accused of being a double agent, they began giving me fewer and fewer assignments," he gave Jack a wry smile, "Quite frankly, Jack, I got bored."

The redhead gave another snort of laughter, "In the middle of a war, in the middle of the greatest intelligence service in the world, breaking enemy codes, learning enemy secrets… and you got bored?"

A sheepish look was his answer, before Zack continued, "I tried to bribe other codebreakers to let me in on their assignments with little to no luck, I was just too fast. So, in the end, I tried writing codes of my own," his eyes widened, making his face look younger than it already did, "Not to use or sell or anything like that, of course…" he added hastily.

Jack shook his head, astonished, "And they let you outta their sights?" he shook his head again as Zack nodded, "Are they mad?! Not only do you break code, but you write it as well? You're the fastest there is… and how do they repay you?" Jack ranted, eyes glinting dangerously on behalf of his new friend, "They not only throw away the best thing that coulda happened to this country's intelligence service! They knock you down a peg and put you in this hellhole!"

Zack stared at him in shock as Jack scowled and shook his head, "Bloody English… present company excluded, so they are…" he added hastily, accent growing broader with every word.

Zack could only blink for a few moments in the wake of his pilot's outburst, before he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head, "So, it's true what they say about the Irish, then?"

At Jack's raised eyebrow, he bumbled on, "I mean, sir, Jack… yes… with the tempers and the feisty… oh no… I shouldn't say that!" the younger man blushed crimson.

Jack bit back a laugh, "The tempers? Aye, that's true Irish," a wicked gleam caught his blue eyes, "And what was the second one? I heard somethin' about feisty in there…"

Zack ducked his head, growing even redder, "It was nothing, really…"

"No, no, lad, come on, I'm interested now…"

Jack leaned in to catch Zack's embarrassed mumble, "I heard the Irish were… that is… um… they were feisty… um… feisty lovers…"

Jack let out a great whoop of laughter, doubling over as tears of mirth rolled down his face, "Ah Zack-lad, don't ever change…" he wheezed out, between guffaws.

Finally getting his laughter under control, Jack gave the still-blushing Zack a saucy wink, "As for my allegedly feisty nature…" the saucy wink turned into a full-blown grin, "Only if you're lucky, lad… only if you're lucky…"

Zack was still muddling his way through that particular comment the next morning when he and Jack were called before Wing Commander Goodman. The two stood at their equally appalling attempts at parade rest. The Wing Commander gave them a look and they straightened self-consciously. Without a word, Goodman handed Jack two folded pieces of paper, waiting until the redhead had taken them and begun reading before he spoke.

"These are your orders, follow them to the letter, do you understand Flight Lieutenant Hodgins?"

Zack watched as Jack's eyes grew steadily darker as he read, hands tightening on the papers. He surreptitiously shifted his weight onto one foot. Watching Jack out the corner of his eye, he waited until the fiery-tempered Flight Lieutenant had lifted his head to speak. Then he quickly shifted his foot over onto Jack's and leaned his weight onto the other man's foot. Jack gritted his teeth, glancing down at the orders once more, and speaking quietly.

"I understand perfectly, sir."

The Wing Commander's eyebrows flew up into his hairline, "Hodgins, Addy… you're dismissed."

"Yes sir."

"Aye, sir."

The two walked out of the room and headed back to the barracks. Staying quiet, Zack moved to his own part of the barracks, opening his trunk and pulling out his table maps, spreading them out across his bed. He got up again, digging through his rucksack, pulling out his smaller travel maps and tucking them into their waterproof casings. He tucked his compass and various other bits into their own casings, pausing only when he heard Jack speak softly.

"Thank you."

Zack blushed and inwardly cursed himself for it, "I… it's nothing, really…"

Jack gave him a wan smile in return, prompting Zack to quickly change the subject and ask, "What are the orders?"

Jack handed them to him. Zack took the slightly crumpled pieces of paper, smoothing it in his hands. He read the orders quickly, eyebrows flying up into his hairline. He blinked, looking up at Jack, who was scowling, then back down at the papers and re-reading them just to make sure. Without a word, he handed the orders back to the redhead.

"France?" he said softly.

Jack nodded, "France. Behind enemy lines too," he separated the second piece of paper from the first, holding it out to Zack, "Here, you'll need these. Co-ordinates for the drop and the flight schedule."

Zack gave him a slightly offended look, "I don't need that," he looked scornfully at the piece of paper and blinked big eyes at Jack, "I memorized them."

Jack blinked at him for a moment, "Wow," then he grinned, "Faith, but you're a treasure. Come on, you should at least see the plane you'll be flyin' to France in."

Zack followed him out to the hangar, marveling at the all the pristine aircraft surrounding him. A small smile crossed his face as he mentally ticked off the planes he recognized. TBM Avenger. B-17 Flying Fortress. B-24 Liberator. He frowned as Jack walked past all of these to the very end of the hangar. Zack's eyebrows flew into his hairline for what seemed like the hundredth time that day as Jack stopped by the aircraft he called his. He blinked up at the patched and peeling paintwork of the SB2C Helldiver that Jack stood under, still a head shorter than its nose cone.

He blurted out the first thing that popped into his head, "Good God, do they still let people fly in those?!"

Jack snickered as Zack looked utterly mortified, "Sir… Jack… I mean… I'm sorry… it's…"

He was saved as Jack said, "Go easy, lad, go easy," the redhead smiled up at the plane, "Allow me to introduce you to 'Patches and Prayers', affectionately known as 'Patch', a SB2C Helldiver, better known as a 'Son-of-a-bitch, Second Class'," the Irish-born Londoner snorted, "Though if you ask me, this piece of crap is a first class son of a bi…"

"Language, Hodgins!" came a bellow from the other side of the hangar.

"Aye sir, sorry sir," Jack called amiably back.

Zack ducked under the nose cone, walking around the plane, carefully running a hand over the tail, up one side and down the other of each wing, then along the side of the plane until he reached Jack again. Jack gave him a smile, but his eyes belied his nervousness. He didn't know why he was nervous. He hadn't been so nervous showing Patch to his previous navigators. Hell, some of them he hadn't even bothered showing her to until the day of the mission.

Zack looked back at Jack, "We should fly across the Channel to Calais, then head South-Southeast through to Abbeville, then take a more easterly course across the River Somme. If we run into trouble we can cut Northeast into Belgium and swing back around."

Jack stared at him, "How? You haven't even looked at the maps yet!"

Zack shot him another slightly offended look, before turning back to the plane. He ran his hand over the nose cone again. He looked back down at Jack, then glanced back down the line at the newer, shinier aircraft. He gave Jack a look, then raised an eyebrow. Jack gave him a sheepish smile in return, running his own hand over Patch's nose cone.

"Are you familiar with the name Hodgins?" he said wryly.

Zack thought about it, "The merchant traders?" he guessed.

Jack nodded, "Sir Alfred Hodgins, CEO?" he waited for Zack's nod of recognition, "That's my father."

Zack's jaw dropped, "Your…? Then why…?"

Jack sighed, sitting down on a step ladder, "Because I want to be someone other than Sir Alfred's son. I joined the RAF so I could do that," he scowled, "But himself couldn't even let me do that on my own…"

Zack pulled up a crate and sat with him, "What happened?"

Jack gave him a wry smile, "My dad bought my commission. Six months ago I was still a Sergeant."

A small frown creased Zack's brow, so Jack hurried on to explain, "I wanted this," he gestured around the hangar, "to be something that Jack Hodgins, pilot, did, not something that Jack Hodgins, son of Sir Alfred, did. But dear old dad couldn't have an enlisted man for a son, Lord no."

Zack still stayed quiet, but his gaze traveled up to Patch's peeling paintwork, making Jack smile, "Aye. And that's why they gave me this old girl. Apparently, I'm," the redhead rolled his eyes and affected a deeper voice, obviously mimicking the Wing Commander, "'insubordinate, arrogant, selfish, lackadaisical… Hodgins, so help me, God…" he grinned as Zack giggled, trying to smother it with a hand.

The grin lessened somewhat, "Because of my father, they can't demote me, can't dishonorably discharge me, can't court-martial me, can't even discipline me too harshly. My father donates too much money to the war effort now, and the Air Force in peacetime, for the brass to even consider annoyin' him enough to withdraw it."

Zack sat quietly for a moment, processing his newfound information, before standing up quite abruptly, looking down at Jack with mirth in his eyes, "Does your list of people with grievances extend to the Supply Sergeants? Because if we want to leave at dawn tomorrow, we should probably begin to make ready now."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Flying With You

**Author: **Hawkeye/Katy

**Beta: **Alex/Odysseus, Nox/BJ

**Fandom: **Bones, but very AU.

**Rating: **FRT

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

Jack shot him a dry look and rose to his feet as well. Still a good four inches shorter than his navigator, Jack looked up at him. He nodded at Zack, shooting him a small smile. Then he turned away and began walking out of the hangar, heading for the supply quarters. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure Zack was following him, slowing his steps until the younger man caught up to him. The two made their way across the base, until they came to the supply quarters. Zack reached out a hand to open the door, but was stopped by Jack's hand on his arm.

Jack gave him a sheepish look, "You know how you asked if the Supply Sergeants were on the list of people with grievances…?"

Zack resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands, "OK," he sighed, "What do you need? I know which maps and supplies I need…"

Zack came out of the supply quarters, almost staggering under the weight of two lots of supplies. Jack quickly stepped forward to help him, reminded of the first time he met Zack, when the young man struggled with his bags. Between them the two maneuvered their gear back to the barracks. Working almost in tandem, they split the supplies into two piles, carefully packing them into the bags that would go with them in the plane. Jack, used to packing for flights, finished first and sat down on Zack's bed, reaching for one of his aerial maps.

He held it arms length, studying it carefully, "What do you make of this? How should we schedule our mission?"

Zack placed the last item into his pack, securing the strap, before turning to face Jack, eyebrows flying up into his hairline, "Well… I make two things of this…" he said, carefully removing the map from Jack's hands, "One. The map is upside down. Putting it the right way up makes it that much easier to read," he bit down on his lip to keep from sniggering, "And two. You're looking at a map of the Balkans. We're flying over France," he turned away to fold the map up, catching Jack's barely concealed laughter out of the corner of his eye.

Zack scowled, "You knew!"

Jack nodded, still fighting laughter, "Sorry, lad, I couldn't help myself," he finally gave in and let out a chuckle, before his expression turned serious once more, "So, you're thinking Calais, Abbeville, then across the Somme? Not up to St-Valery-en-Caux or Cambrai?"

Zack shook his head, "I know the base at St-Valery-en-Caux is better hidden and the base at Cambrai is bigger, but so do the enemy. Calais is right on the coast. Statistically, if we're going to take damage, it will be in the Channel crossing. Our drop zone is, here," he pulled out the correct map and pointed, "a munitions encampment between Abbeville and Cambrai."

Jack nodded, "I understand your reasoning now. But, if I may ask, why over the Somme?"

Zack smiled wryly, "We'll be flying over enemy territory. Germany has a fighter base located on the Belgian border that they think we don't know about."

As Jack's eyes widened, Zack continued, "There are pockets of Resistance fighters along the Somme," he sighed, "God forbid it, but, if we should be shot down, that's where I want to be."

Jack playfully cuffed him in the head, "Bite your tongue! No man has ever shot down Flight Lieutenant Jack Hodgins! God Himself would be hard pressed to throw a thunderbolt close enough to hit me!" he struck a melodramatic pose on the bed, making Zack snort and shake his head.

The following pre-dawn saw the two men stumbling bleary-eyed towards the hangar, packs dangling from their slumped shoulders. Jack forced out a jaw-cracking yawn as he maneuvered his way through the hangar to get to Patch. He ran a careful hand over the plane's worn nose cone. Zack followed behind, ducking under the wing next to Jack and running a hand along Patch's side, before turning back to face the front of the plane. The two men's eyes met. Jack shot the younger man a small smile, but his eyes belied his nerves. Zack returned it with a nervous, hesitant smile of his own and gestured to Jack that he was ready.

Jack ran his hand over the nose cone once more, "Come on, old girl, time to make me proud again," before placing one foot under the wing joint and vaulting into the cockpit.

Zack looked at the back of his head, slightly taken aback at the sentimental display. He shunted his bag into the navigator's seat. Then he stood uncertainly for a moment, closing his eyes and trying to calm his thundering heart and skyrocketing nerves. It didn't work very well. Letting out the breath he was holding in a shaky sigh, Zack gingerly planted his foot and climbed somewhat awkwardly into the navigator's seat. Jack turned back to face him, shooting him a concerned look. Zack gave him a wan smile in return, strapping himself in and pulling out his map and spreading it across his legs.

The map was soon forgotten as the plane was moved out onto the runway. Zack abandoned it in favor of gripping onto his harness for dear life, as the plane spluttered into life and shuddering down the runway. He scrunched his eyes shut as the plane bounced once, twice, three times, and then they were away. Zack blanched as his stomach was left behind on the fields below him.

"Zack-lad? You doin' alright back there?" Jack's voice floated back to him, sounding, Zack thought sourly, horribly cheerful.

Zack slowly opened his eyes, glancing around the plane, and finding himself looking into Jack's bright blue eyes, "Don't look at me!" he squawked, "The plane! The plane! Fly the godforsaken plane!"

Jack snorted with barely suppressed laughter, but obligingly turned his eyes back to the controls. Recovering from his scare, Zack sagged back into his seat, bringing one hand up to rub over his eyes. With a deep, steadying breath, he reached for the map that had almost slid off his knees. In doing so, he caught sight of the world outside. The rolling, green hills of his homeland stretched out behind him. A bittersweet smile curled Zack's mouth. It would've been beautiful, were it not for the blackened craters, interspersed at random intervals, remnants of bomber attacks, and the faint lines of barbed wire surrounding what was undoubtedly commandeered land for military bases.

He sighed, pulling the map over his knees again, reaching for his compass. He laid the compass on the flat of his palm, holding it above the map, frowning in concentration. He glanced up at the compass and traced a slender hand along the map. He craned his neck to look out the window again without losing his map, then back at his compass, then down at his map again.

"Two points east, Jack…" he spoke softly.

The pilot frowned, "But all the instruments say we're on course," he replied, twisting his head back to look at the navigator.

Zack winced and gestured with the hand not holding the compass for the pilot to watch what he was doing, "Jack!" he waited until the redhead had turned back to the controls before he continued, "But there is obvious wind disturbance down there. The weather reports showed nothing unexpected for the Dover region, but they did show some disturbance over Calais and St-Valery-en-Caux. If we carry on this way, we'll be blown miles off course the minute we edge over the Channel."

Jack nodded, amazed yet again by the younger man's quick mind, "Right you are. Two points east?"

Zack nodded with him, "That's right."

The redhead eased the temperamental plane onto the new course, turning around as best he could in his seat, craning his neck to look at Zack and taking one hand off the controls to do so, "Goodman was right, you are damn good. I'm gonna make sure you stick with me…" he gestured grandly with his free hand, blinking as Zack interrupted him.

"Please, Jack, for the love of my sanity, watch where you're flying!" Zack yelped, clutching the compass in one hand and his harness in the other, abandoning the map between his knees, "Keeping this thing in the air can't honestly be that easy!"

Jack shot the wide-eyed navigator an evil grin over his shoulder, hands floating easily over the controls, "Flying is simple, lad. You just throw yourself at the ground and miss!" then with no further ado, he jammed his hands down on the controls, sending the plane into a spin.

Zack let out a shriek that, later, he would wholeheartedly deny was girly. He abandoned both map and compass, instead dragging his hands up to the straps across his chest and gripping them for dear life. Because his head couldn't tuck itself down between his knees, his knees came up to tuck themselves around his head. And that was how Jack found him, seconds later as he eased Patch out of her spin, leveling her out. Knees pulled up to his chest, neck straining against the straps, arms crossed tightly over his abdomen, clinging to his shoulder straps for dear life, Zack would've made an almost comical picture if it wasn't for the great heaving gasps that were coming from the ball of navigator in the back.

Jack gaped, he hadn't realized his navigator was quite so nervous, "Oh Lordy, Zack? Zack?" his gaze flicked back over to the controls, knowing that Zack would freak out even more if he saw that he wasn't paying attention now, "Zack-lad? Come on, please say summat?" Jack briefly noted his accent getting broader the more anxious he got.

"You are insane," came a small voice from the back.

Unconsciously, Jack flicked his eyes back over his shoulder, "Zack?" his eyes went straight back to the controls.

"You fly like a madman," the voice continued.

Jack winced, "Zack, Zack… truly, I am sorry… I didn't realize…"

"I think that's the most exciting thing I've ever done," the small voice finished in the same quiet tone, making Jack flick his eyes back over his shoulder, just in time to see Zack slowly uncurl himself and retrieve his fallen map and compass.

Zack took another steadying breath, resisting the urge to grin like the madman he'd just called Jack. He pulled the map up over his knees again, scanning it with a practiced eye. He glanced at his compass, frowning slightly, then moved back to the map. He sighed in exasperation.

"Two points east, Jack…" he said, "We're off-course again…"

Their trip across the English Channel was surprisingly uneventful, much to both men's relief and Zack's slight chagrin. He knew, the minute they crossed onto French soil, that he would be in for a ribbing. He was relieved, make no mistake, that they had not encountered any enemy contact. But he sighed, a wry smile curling his lips, as he envisioned the sparkle that would alight in Jack's eyes as the redhead would tease him mercilessly. He was not disappointed.

"So… Zack…"

"Please, don't…" he made a futile attempt to forestall any teasing before it got started.

But the redhead was not to be deterred, "Statistics?" Jack's face broke into a grin, "Sure you didn't have them upside-down, Zack-lad?" he said slyly, referring to his previous teasing with the aerial map.

Zack wholeheartedly resisted the urge to pout. He did, however, fold his arms across his chest and shoot the back of his pilot's head a glare. The glaring was short-lived however, as the young navigator turned back to his task, his head moving constantly between the compass, the map and the outside world. Every so often, quiet murmurs would make their way to Jack, allowing the pilot to keep directly on course. The redhead periodically glanced over his shoulder at the navigator. The lad was good at what he did, and despite the girly screams from before, he was doing well for his first mission out.

Zack spoke up, his voice once again a quiet murmur, "We'll need to put in and refuel soon. ETA forty-four minutes and counting…"

Jack nodded, keeping Patch steady in the air. He listened to the soothing hum of his plane's engines for a while before his thoughts turned to other things. He heard the crinkle of paper behind him and allowed his thoughts to turn to the young navigator flying with him. Young… He really was young. Jack frowned. He didn't look old enough to have been in intelligence for as long as he had been. They didn't accept anyone into intelligence who didn't have at least one university degree.

Jack's frown grew bigger and he opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Zack, "Half a point north, Jack… ETA thirty-seven minutes and counting…"

"Thanks Zack-lad," he said, easing the plane back on-course, before gearing himself to speak again, "Zack? Can I ask how old you are?"

The tension in the plane became almost palpable. Jack flinched, suddenly wishing he hadn't spoken, suddenly cursing his inevitable mistake of not thinking before speaking. He didn't turn around. He kept his eyes fixed on the landscape in front of him. Then, slowly, almost silently, a soft sigh was heard from the back. Still, Jack resisted the urge to turn around.

"I did wonder when that would come up," Zack's voice said from behind him, all the tension melting away, "I just never expected it to be so soon."

This time Jack did turn around, "What?"

Zack held his eyes for a few moments before gesturing back to the controls, waiting for Jack to take them before he continued, "I'm twenty-four."

Jack blinked, "Twenty-four?!" he gaped, swinging his head round to stare at the navigator, before impatiently turning back as Zack gestured frantically at the controls again, "Only twenty-four?! But… you were a codebreaker! That's one of the highest levels of clearance there is! Only Churchill and his boys are higher!"

Zack nodded, "Yes, that is true," there was no modesty in his words, nor arrogance, just a simple statement of fact.

Jack goggled, "But…" he managed to get out.

Zack sighed, "I have two university degrees. I am what doctors and psychologists call a child prodigy, but what the rest of the world calls a 'socially inept genius-freak.'"

Zack changed subjects abruptly, "ETA twenty-three minutes and counting…" before going back to his original topic, "I have an IQ that my CO referred to as 'stupidly high'. The powers that be decided that I was simply too dangerous to be left out of military service."

Jack shook his head, "I don't know what to say, lad."

Zack abruptly changed topic again, agile mind able to track many things at once, "ETA twenty minutes and counting… So, when I graduated from my second degree when I was sixteen, they immediately snatched me up and pressed me into peacetime service, despite the fact that I was barely old enough to join the cadets."

"Lord, Zack… I'm sorry…" Jack couldn't help but shoot him a quick glance over his shoulder.

Zack blinked almost owlishly at him, "For what?"

The comment was so utterly Zack that Jack had to bite down on his lip and turn back to the controls to keep from laughing, albeit bitterly, "For the life they wouldn't let you have, Zack-lad. For what happened. For the fact that people can be so stupid as to not see what an amazin' person you are…" Jack bit down harder on his lip at that, fighting the blush that crept up his pale cheeks.

Zack failed to notice the blush creeping up Jack's face, too preoccupied was he with the blush that was crawling its way up his own face. As he fought with his reddening face, he heard Jack's startled yelp, followed by a string of the most vulgar curses Zack had ever heard, even working in intelligence. Every trace of the blush dropped away, Zack's head snapping up to look at his pilot. He wasn't expecting to see Jack's head whipping back and forth, up and down, eyes darting everywhere, still cursing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Flying With You

**Author: **Hawkeye/Katy

**Beta: **Alex/Odysseus, Nox/BJ

**Fandom: **Bones, but very AU.

**Rating: **FRT

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

"Jack?" he said, voice jumping an octave higher.

Jack's voice came back to him, all business, accent broader than Zack had ever heard it, "Strap in, hang tight an' hold on, Zack-lad… I'm thinkin' this won't be too pretty…"

Still confused, Zack did as he was bid, trusting his pilot implicitly. He yelped, thrown to the side of the plane as Jack yanked the controls sideways. He yelled the pilot's name, along with something that could've been a demand to know what was going on, but could also have been a wordless cry of fear, Zack didn't know. Then he heard it. A low steady buzzing whine, the rumbling roar of an engine. Zack's breath hitched in his throat, eyes and head darting frantically, looking for the same thing Jack was. The enemy plane that was hell-bent on watching them die.

Patch hurtled off to the side, Jack's nimble hands flying over the controls. Zack bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming as the ground suddenly tilted crazily out of his window. He kept his head constantly darting around, trying to find the elusive plane dogging their every move. There! Out of the corner of his eye, Zack saw the plane soar past them, pulling around to capture them in its sights.

"Jack!" he yelled, voice breaking on that single word, "North! North! It's sighting!"

The redhead hauled back on the controls sending the plane into an upward spiral. Zack didn't bother holding back the startled scream as the staccato thunder of the fighter's guns whistled past Patch. The fighter careened around after them, firing frenetically the entire time. Jack swung his head round to Zack, blue eyes wide with fear and determination. Zack didn't respond, he couldn't. The navigator's eyes were saucer-wide in his ashen face. He dimly heard Jack calling his name as the pilot's eyes flicked between him and the fighter plane attacking them.

"Hold on, Zack-lad," he whispered, voice easily heard despite the barreling roar of the engines and guns.

The pilot waited until Zack turned wide eyes onto his face, before shoving down on the controls, making Patch shudder into a rapid downward spin. But he waited too long. Zack heard the rumbling thunder of the guns, yelling to Jack to 'move, for the love of God, move'. Then came seven rapid fire metal-on-metal clanging noises. Zack frowned uncertainly. Then as black, acrid smoke flowed past his window, realization dawned. They'd been hit.

"Jack?" he called through, horror in his voice.

"Not now, Zack!" the pilot's terse voice came back to him.

Zack shifted his head slightly to the left. Still in their downward spiral, he could see Jack wrestling ferociously with the controls, yanking back on them with all his strength. Patch leveled out for a moment, letting Zack breathe a little easier. All the warning he had, then, was Jack's frantic curse and Patch's sudden lurch to the left. Then the explosion threw him sideways, pulling his straps to their limit. For a few seconds, Zack was floating, grey all around him. Then, much to his disappointment, the world came back, and the disaster came with it.

Burning shrapnel peppered the exposed skin in his neck, his helmet catching the worst of the damage. A low moaning filled his ears that he belatedly realized was coming from him. He clamped his jaw shut tight, stifling the sound. He lifted his head, wincing as it throbbed mercilessly, and took in Jack's pale face, flicking back and forth between him and the plane. He opened his mouth, tried to speak, but came up with nothing more than a hoarse croak. He coughed, flinching as he did so, and tried again.

"For God's sake, Jack… just fly…"

Jack turned horrified blue eyes on him; still wrestling with the controls, "I can't…" he choked out, "I can't…" the redhead's eyes went back to the instruments, all of them in the red.

Zack closed his eyes. Painfully, he remembered his training and slowly brought his arms up to grip the straps crossing his chest, shrapnel from the explosion cutting into his hands. He opened his eyes one last time, in time to see Jack cross himself and grab hold of his own chest straps. The redhead turned his head slightly, meeting Zack's eyes. Then he turned back and scrunched his own shut. Zack had time for a soft sigh, before plane met ground, and the two men's world was no more.

Jack was the first to claw his way back into wakefulness. He blinked blue eyes open, then blinked them again in surprise, looking up. A low noise of confusion forced its way out of his throat as he found himself looking up at the mud and grass. Up? He blinked again, then forced himself to look down, letting out a startled noise as he saw the sky between his feet. Dimly, his aching head protested the sky between his feet and he struggled for a solution, finally twisting around and noting that the plane sat crumpled, upside-down in the mud. He groaned, sluggishly bringing a hand up and unbuckling his harness, belatedly realizing, as he thumped heavily to the ground, a whimper escaping him, that the harness was the only thing holding him up.

Jack lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, trying to make all his muscles stop screaming at him and work. Thoughts floated in and out of his mind, not a one sticking for longer than a split second, none sticking long enough for Jack to do anything about them. But still the pilot felt that there was something he was missing, something he had forgotten about. His pain fogged mind fought with that for a moment as he struggled towards a ragged hole in the plane. He groaned, forcing his way out through the hole and flopping tiredly into the mud. He sighed, tilting his head to the side and catching sight of a torn map tumbling end over end in the wind away from him. He frowned, Zack was going to be annoyed that he'd lost a map. His eyes widened and he sat up abruptly, hissing at the screaming protest of his muscles. Zack… Oh Lord… where was he?!

Ignoring the roiling in his stomach and the shrieking protests of his abused muscles, Jack crawled back to the plane, sticking his head back into the hole he'd just crawled out of. He craned his neck past the seat, looking for his navigator. When he found him, he promptly dragged his head back out of the hole, throwing up everything he'd eaten for the last week. It took him another few minutes before he could get his heaving stomach under control enough to put his head and arms back into the hole enough to start to pull Zack out.

He reached for him, but hesitated, shivering lightly. God… the poor guy… Zack was covered in blood. Dead? Alive? Jack took a steadying breath, wincing as his ribs ached, and reached towards his navigator. He placed trembling fingers on the man's neck, sighing in undisguised relief at the weak but steady thump of his pulse. He unbuckled the bigger man, cursing as Zack fell on top of him. He wriggled his way around, maneuvering his arms around the younger man's waist. He hissed in pain as Zack's added weight pressed down on his already aching body. Slowly and painfully, Jack crawled backwards, heaving Zack's dead weight after him, flinching at every soft cry pulled from the still unconscious man.

Panting harshly from the exertion, Jack flopped down next to the injured man. He coughed weakly, wincing as his ribs burned again, convincing him beyond a doubt that at least one of them was cracked or bruised. He sighed, rolling up onto his knees, then looking over at Zack. He flinched, then cast around for something to clean Zack up with. Pulling his scarf from around his neck, he leaned over his fallen friend and gently wiped away the blood that covered his face.

A shudder ran through the slender frame, making Jack pull back in surprise, "Zack?"

Reaching forward to wipe away more blood from the younger man's face, Jack froze as he was answered by a low moan and a weak cough. Leaning forward, the redhead carefully wiped the blood from around Zack's mouth, nose and eyes. He leaned a little closer as the eyelids fluttered briefly and went still.

He frowned, "Zack? Are you with me, Zack-lad?"

A low whimper answered him. Jack pressed his fingers back to the pulse point on the navigator's face, a triumphant smile crossing his face as the pulse responded, thumping stronger under his fingers than before. The eyelids fluttered again and Jack leaned forward, hope building in his heart. His hope was shattered as the navigator's eyes flew open, showing only the whites, tremors wracking the slender frame as the younger man wheezed, gasping for breath.

Jack's eyes widened at the shuddering wheeze, "Zack? Zack? Zack, you encyclopedic arsehole! Open your goddamn eyes and look at me!" he fought the urge to grab Zack's shoulders and just shake him.

Jack's hands flexed helplessly, wanting to do something, anything, to help his friend, his brother-in-arms, but there was nothing he could do but watch. Zack's gasping coughs ripped through him. The younger man's eyelids fluttered again, even as he struggled for breath. Jack shook his head, thumping one hand into the mud in frustration.

"Zack! Come on, don't do this…" he pleaded.

Zack's eyes flew open again, making Jack recoil with a startled curse as wide brown eyes locked onto his own blue orbs. The navigator's hands clenched in the mud as he coughed. Zack coughed again, hunching himself painfully onto his side. He gagged, still coughing. Jack was by him in a second, one hand against the small of Zack's back as he tried to help in some way.

Zack's chest heaved as he tried to force air into his lungs. Slowly, achingly, he dragged his breathing down to a normal level. He moaned softly, dazed eyes taking in the wrecked plane and his maps blowing across the muddy field. He blinked as a noise began to filter through his cotton-wool-stuffed head. Who…? The image of a grinning redhead with bright blue eyes filtered through his mind. Jack.

With an inordinate amount of effort, Zack rolled himself painfully onto his back. He blinked still-foggy brown eyes. After the second or third slow blink, he opened them on a welcome sight. The battered, blood-streaked and bruised face of Flight Lieutenant Jack Hodgins. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except a hoarse croak and a fresh round of coughing. When the coughing had died away and he could breathe again, he tried again, voice rasping out barely above a whisper.

"Sir?"

Jack let out an almost hysterical bark of laughter at that one questioning word, "How many times have I told you not to call me 'sir', Zack-lad?" he said affectionately, smoothing blood-matted bangs away from Zack's forehead.

"Sorry," came the whispered reply, along with a quirked half-smile.

Jack shot him a shaky smile in return, "Where are ye hurtin', Zack-lad? I'll need to check you over for injuries."

Zack's eyes cleared a little more, rolling around to look at his surroundings, "Can't stay here…" he rasped out.

Jack shook his head, wincing as the pain in it flared, "No, so you need to tell me where you're hurt, Zack."

"You're hurt too…" a frown creased Zack's forehead.

"Saints preserve us all! You are so frustrating!" Jack blasphemed sharply, abruptly reaching for Zack.

Zack's eyes widened comically as the other man grumbled. He tried to weakly knock Jack's hands away as the redhead reached for the buttons on his vest, fumbling them open to reveal the navigator's undershirt. He blushed furiously, trying harder to move the other man's hands away as he redhead ran icy fingers underneath the material. Jack ignored the blush that was creeping up his own face at the feel of the younger man's skin under his fingers, focusing instead on finding any broken bones, bruises or cuts Zack had.

As Jack ran careful fingers over Zack's ribs, Zack couldn't hold back his hissing moan of pain. Jack winced, lifting his hands away, easing some of the pressure. Finishing his examination of the navigator's torso, he carefully re-buttoned the younger man's shirt and jacket, before moving onto his head and face.

He fought back a flinch as he ran his fingers through Zack's hair, hands coming back bloody. He wiped his hand on the grass, and looked at Zack's eyes. They seemed to be clear and focused. He continued his exploration, noting with some satisfaction that his ribs and the cut on his head seemed to be the only thing really damaged.

"Well, Zack-lad…" he said, sitting back up, "You've got what I believe the latest medical experts are referrin' to as a 'bump on the scone'," he grinned as Zack chuckled, "And… some of your ribs are broken or at least bruised, so they are."

Zack sighed, wincing as his aforementioned ribs burned, "Damn it all…"

"Aye, that comes close…" Jack agreed.

Zack looked up at him from the floor, "Help me up."

Jack stared at him like he'd grown another head, "Hey what?" Zack returned his stunned look with a determined scowl, "Zack, you can't seriously…"

"Think, Hodgins!" the normally mild-mannered navigator snapped, "We were shot down by a German plane. We were over enemy territory when he shot us down," Zack let the fear bleed into his eyes, "We can't stay here, Jack…"

Jack nodded slowly, "Aye, you're right," he carefully eased himself to his feet.

Jack crouched down, sliding an arm around the navigator's shoulders. Zack hissed in pain, biting his lip to stop himself crying out. Jack slowly eased the younger man into a sitting position, shaking his head as he saw Zack's ashen face. Zack was in agony even from sitting up, there was no way he'd be walking anywhere. Zack saw the redhead shake his head and glared, shifting his legs to force his feet under him.

Jack was torn between the urge to strangle the younger man for his stubbornness or smile at his determination. He curled an arm around Zack's shoulders and eased him upright, supporting most of the taller man's weight as Zack panted harshly with pain. Zack carefully placed his weight back on his own feet. First the left. Then he slowly eased his weight down onto the right. And promptly shifted it back again, crying out softly in pain, bowing his head and clenching his eyes shut.

Jack cringed in sympathy, "Damn," before slowly easing the navigator back down onto the ground.

Zack frowned at him, "What are you doing? We have to move."

Jack looked back at him, "We have to see how bad you're hurt so I know how far we can move."

Zack sighed, and allowed the pilot to carry on with his ministrations, biting back another cry of pain as Jack gently pulled his boot off. He glanced down at his foot and blanched. His right foot was swollen and red, with bruises around his ankle. Jack gently prodded and poked around the swollen areas. Then with a care Zack wasn't expecting, Jack lifted his foot into his hands. Jack then glanced at him apologetically and slowly rotated the ankle, making him hiss.

"Well," Jack said, gently easing the boot back on, "I don't think it's broken. Sprained, most like."

Zack grimaced, "Well, that's just grand."

Jack gazed at him with concern in his eyes, "Where you go, I go, Zack-lad. We'll take it slow, aye?"

Zack turned wide brown eyes to him, "But…"

Jack frowned, "No buts… We stay together."

Jack waited for Zack's reluctant nod before he curled an arm around the navigator's waist and gently eased him to his feet again. His heart clenched as Zack blanched. Slinging Zack's arm over his shoulder, he supported as much of Zack's weight as his own aching ribs would allow. Together the two men made their slow, painful way away from their plane and into the unknown.

Jack didn't know how long it had been, how long they had staggered together, taking small, pain-filled steps back towards the French coast. Back towards safety. He didn't know, if he really wanted to admit to himself, who had stumbled first. But one minute they were taking another trudging baby-step, the next, he and Zack were in a sprawled tangle of legs and arms on the muddy ground. Jack blinked in surprise, finding himself suddenly staring at what looked like the wing patch on Zack's left arm.

A low groan sounded from the mess of limbs, "Oh… you're sitting on my hand, Jack."

Jack grunted, "Sorry, sorry…" and untangled himself.

Jack carefully rolled to his feet, biting down on his lip to fight back the sudden wave of dizziness and nausea that nearly swamped him. Zack frowned, gingerly sitting up, as he saw Jack's face turn white. Jack met Zack's eyes and shot the navigator a wan smile. Then he reached down and gingerly helped the other man back to his feet, looping Zack's arm around his shoulders again.

"Alright, Zack-lad?"

He felt Zack's tousled head nod against his arm, "Yes, but I don't think you're as alright as you're making out."

Jack blanched, "I'll be fine. Let's just keep goin', aye?"

Zack frowned at that, but said nothing, seeing the wisdom in Jack's words. The two men carried on together, limping and struggling through the cold. Zack felt Jack shiver lightly under his arm. His frown grew deeper. The navigator slowly shifted and tried to take more of his own weight again. He took a deep breath as the pain flared in his foot, glancing quickly at Jack. The ashen-faced redhead didn't appear to notice. Slowly but surely, as they shuffled ever on, it was Zack who was supporting Jack's weight, despite the navigator's sprained ankle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Flying With You

**Author: **Hawkeye/Katy

**Beta: **Alex/Odysseus, Nox/BJ

**Fandom: **Bones, but very AU.

**Rating: **FRT

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

"Jack?" Zack said, wincing as the pilot stumbled heavily against him once more, "Jack, come on, I think we should try and find somewhere to stop for the night."

Jack raised his head, "What?" he turned bleary eyes up to Zack.

"We're stopping for the night, sir," Zack said, scanning through the trees for somewhere, anywhere, that they could stop.

"Oh… here?" Jack frowned slightly, words a little breathy.

Zack glanced down at the pilot, alarmed. He watched as Jack's eyes slid up to look at him, then down to look at his feet. Moving a little quicker, despite the pain in his ribs and foot, Zack hurried towards the nearest grove of trees he saw. Jack dragged his feet along with him, staggering every few steps. He grunted in pain, nearly falling, as the pilot kicked him in the ankle. He caught his feet again and looked down. Jack's eyes drifted back up to him, then slowly drooped shut. Zack's eyes widened as the redhead slowly went limp in his arms.

Manhandling the pilot over to a section of scrub that would keep them out of sight, Zack sighed as he lowered him to the ground, "I guess we're staying here the night, then."

He tugged Jack up into a more comfortable position, then eased himself down next to him. Zack shivered slightly in the growing dark. They weren't prepared for camping, or even wet weather. He shook himself, those thoughts would not help now. He felt Jack shiver next to him. Zack frowned slightly and pulled the pilot's jacket tighter around him, then shifted over and huddled in close, pressing his own body up against Jack's. He closed his eyes as he felt a blush warm his face and just hoped the pilot could forgive this trespass.

Jack blinked his eyes open in the near dawn, shivering at the cold that wormed his way up his left side. His right side, however, was warm. Well… warmer, anyway. He shifted back towards that warmth, blinking in surprise as it grunted and mumbled 'ow' in a soft, London-accented voice. He rolled over, blinking again as he caught sight of Zack cracking open sleep-blurred brown eyes. Zack's eyes locked onto his and widened.

"Jack?" he croaked out, voice still foggy with sleep.

Zack sat up abruptly, hissing as his ribs protested the movement, "Sir… Jack… how are you feeling? Do you remember what happened?"

"Not… exactly," Jack's face scrunched up as he thought, "But, I'm guessing I passed out?"

Zack nodded, still looking worried, "Walking with that head wound can't have been good for you… plus hauling me around…" the navigator looked close to wringing his hands.

"Let it be, Zack-lad, we did what we had to," Jack sat up gingerly, "Speakin' of which… we should probably keep movin', if you have no objections?"

Zack shook his head and, using the tree for leverage, hauled himself to his feet. Then, balancing awkwardly on one leg, he reached down and helped Jack up too. Jack gave him a look of fond exasperation, steadying him as Zack swayed a little. The two men shifted so they had their arms around each others shoulders again, Jack supporting Zack's weight.

"Shall we dance?" Jack said cheekily, knowing it would make the navigator blush.

Zack reddened, "Just keep moving, sir… Jack…"

Making their second start into the French countryside, the two men limped out of the grove of trees together. They stumbled on, moving from grove to grove, staggering between the trees and across the open fields. They limped together across France, stopping only when the sun was high in the sky.

Jack sighed in relief as he dropped to the ground, leaning up against a tree, "Bloody Nora," he grumbled, "Dunno 'bout you, Zack-lad, but I could murder a cup of tea right now."

Zack eased himself down a little more carefully, "Add to it some scones with jam and cream and I'd happily murder Churchill himself."

Jack snorted, "Treason, Zack? From a former codebreaker? For scones? I'm shocked."

Zack replied dryly, "Well, they did say I was a double agent."

Jack laughed at that, which made Zack smile. There had been precious little to smile about since they had left the base… Zack frowned… two days ago. Had it only been two days? It felt like forever. Longer than forever. And now here they were, stuck behind enemy lines, injured and unprepared. Enemy lines… Zack's frown grew deeper as a thought struck him.

"Jack?"

"Aye, Zack?" the redhead had his eyes closed, leaning back against the tree.

"Doesn't the RAF have strict guidelines and procedures regarding being shot down behind enemy lines?" Zack shifted a little to look at him.

Jack looked over at him, "That they do, Zack."

Zack looked a little perturbed, "We aren't following them."

Jack shook his head a little, "Nope."

"But if it's procedure…" Zack's mouth snapped shut as Jack interrupted him.

"Aye, it's procedure… Procedure that was written by pompous arseholes who wouldn't know an enemy line if they were strangled with one."

Zack nodded, "Alright then. Shall we keep moving?"

Jack grinned at Zack's easy acceptance and nodded as well. He hauled himself to his feet with a grimace, then held out a hand to Zack. Zack allowed himself to be helped up, smiling his thanks. Together, Jack and Zack made their slow, stumbling way back out into the countryside.

Looking back, Jack realized, it can't have even been three hours. Staggering past a grove of trees, supporting Zack's weight, he should have been paying attention. He should've noticed that the birds had stopped making noise. He should've heard the soft rustling of cloth on bark. He should have done something more. But he didn't.

Yells came from all around. Shouting voices and rifles cocking made both Jack and Zack swing their heads wildly. Soldiers shifted out from the trees, guns pointed at the two men, all yelling at once. Zack's eyes widened, his face paling, and he slowly lifted his hands up from Jack's shoulders and into the air in the universal gesture of surrender. Jack cursed vulgarly, prompting one of the men to shove their rifle closer to his pale face, still barking angry words at him in a language he didn't understand until he too raised his hands.

"Zack-lad?" Jack drew out slowly.

"Oh Lord…" Zack whispered back, face ashen.

"Qui êtes-vous?! Qui êtes-vous?! Des Allemands? Des Français? Des Belges? D'où venez-vous?"

Jack shook his head in incomprehension, "What? I…" he received a slap across the face for his trouble.

"Répondez-moi! D'où venez-vous? Qui sont vos alliés?!"

Zack's eyes widened and he started to mumble barely loud enough for Jack to hear, "Who are you? Who are you? German? French? Belgian? Where are you from?" he looked over at Jack, who looked back at him, confused, "Answer me. Where are you from? Who are you allied with?"

Jack looked at him in incomprehension, "Zack… what?"

"French… they're speaking French," and with that Zack lifted his head, eyes determined and began to speak.

"Nous sommes anglais, de la Royal Air Force. Vous savez qui sont nos alliés. Il serait beaucoup plus intéressant de savoir qui sont vos allies?" Zack's voice was flinty as he spoke.

Jack shook his head, almost blanching at the furious expressions on the Frenchmen's faces, "What the bloody hell did you just tell them?"

"That we were RAF. Then I asked them who they were allied with. Rude buggers…" the Londoner scowled.

Jack's eyebrows flew up into his hairline, accent thickening as he spoke, "You just told them… the men pointing guns at us… that they were rude buggers?"

"Qu'a-t'il dit?" one man stepped forward, gesturing at Jack with his rifle.

Zack stepped in front of the rifle, hands raised in a peacemaking gesture, "Il m'a demandé ce que je vous avais dit. Il ne parle pas français et je vais devoir traduire pour vous deux."

The man nodded, looking over Zack's shoulder at Jack, "D'accord. On dirait que nous sommes tous les deux du même côté. Je suis Matthieu Durand."

Jack's horribly confused look prompted Zack to translate, "I told him you don't speak French, so I would be an interpreter. He agreed and introduced himself. This is Matthieu Durand."

Jack nodded, "Right then," he said, carefully nudging Zack out the way and holding out a hand to the Frenchman, "Flight Lieutenant Jack Hodgins."

Zack held his own hand out to the Frenchman, "Flying Officer Zack Addy."

The Frenchman, Durand, gave them both a small smile, before gesturing to his men and barking another command in his native language. The soldiers all lowered their rifles. Jack finally allowed himself to relax. Durand gestured, saying something in French that made Zack smile. Jack ruthlessly squashed the irrational surge of jealousy that swarmed up his insides at the idea that someone else could make Zack smile so unselfconsciously.

They followed the French soldiers through the countryside. Jack, this time, leaning heavily, and with barely disguised relief, on the steady shoulder of a Frenchman whose name was also Jack. Well, Jacques… but, hey, close enough. He looked sideways at Zack, who was limping along beside Durand, chattering away in French and snickering occasionally. It made Jack scowl and clench his fist, which made Jacques wince and look over at him.

"Puis-je dire quelque chose?"

Jack looked up into the grey-green eyes of his newfound ally and sighed, "I've got no idea what you just said, lad."

The Frenchman frowned at him in confusion, then his gaze cleared, "You… do not…" he paused, obviously searching for the right word, before continuing in his heavily accented English, "…talk? …speak?" he nodded, "…speak… French…?"

Jack blinked at him, "No, I don't speak French. You speak English?"

Jacques made a so-so motion with his hand and an uncertain noise in the back of his throat. Jack nodded, glancing over to Zack and Durand again. He looked back at Jacques and sighed, wincing as his ribs throbbed.

"What did you say before?" Jack spoke slowly, trying to curb his accent as much as possible.

Jacques shifted, taking a little more of Jack's weight as he spoke in halting, accented English, "I… say to you… sir… I ask… may I speak… freely?" he looked questioningly at Jack, more to check that he made sense than anything else.

Jack nodded, "Course you can." 

Jacques glanced over to where Zack and Durand were talking animatedly, "You… and the other…? erm… Zack?" he waited for Jack's slightly suspicious nod of confirmation before continuing, "You are…?" he waved his hand through the air trying to find the right words, but couldn't, making an abrupt switch to French in his frustration, "Ensemble? Un couple?"

Jack shook his head helplessly, "I don't understand, sorry…" he said, raising his shoulders and hands in a confused shrug.

The Frenchman let out a frustrated noise, "Un couple? Vous voulez dire qu'ils ont une relation intime?" he threw up his free hand when Jack simply stared back, utterly perplexed.

It was only when the Frenchman took his hand off Jack's shoulders and made an obscene hand gesture, one unmistakable in any language, that Jack understood. And blushed furiously. As Jacques grinned cheekily and pursed his lips in a kissy-face, Jack elbowed him in the ribs and scowled up at him.

"I understand now, alright?" that wiped the smile of Jacques' face.

"So… it is truth? You are…?" he rolled his hand as he eased it back around Jack's shoulders.

Jack shook his head, "No," and stayed silent, despite the Frenchman's best efforts to draw him into a conversation.

Jack stayed quiet, eyes either on his feet or flitting up to frown at Zack and Durand, still talking animatedly in French in front of him. He remained that way, silently limping on, until Jacques squeezed his shoulder. Jack raised his eyes from his feet, barely catching himself from starting back as he caught sight of a cave in front of him. He blinked in surprise, looking out over the countryside and spotting buildings in the distance. Buildings? A base? No… a village? Jack turned his eyes back to the cave, seeing a warm light coming from inside. Lord, but that was a welcome sight…


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Flying With You

**Author: **Hawkeye/Katy

**Beta: **Alex/Odysseus, Nox/BJ

**Fandom: **Bones, but very AU.

**Rating: **FRT

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

He turned to Jacques, looking for answers, "This is… my… our… homeland? We stay here…" he nodded over to the village, "Some villagers help us," he nodded and grinned triumphantly when he got the sentence right.

Jack nodded, face breaking into a small, unwilling smile, "Brilliant."

Jacques frowned in concentration, obviously trying to work out a translation in his mind, "You… you are given…" he shook his head, "You will be given… food, a bed…" he looked a little sheepish, "Bathing water… am sorry… only showers are in the village. Too risky."

Jack's smile grew bigger at that, "You have just made my day," he clapped the Frenchman on the shoulder, "Showers or not."

Jacques grinned back at him, "You will stay here," he helped Jack over to a sectioned off part of the cave, "I will… come back to help you… in half hour?" he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Jack shot him a saucy grin, "What? You aren't gonna stay?"

Jacques' eyebrows shot up into his head, but he grinned back, "I… I am thinking… it would be… more than half hour… if I stay, _non_?" this was finished off with a cheeky wink, "Food would get cold."

Jack would have continued flirting with the Frenchman but he stopped as the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. Both he and Jacques turned, finding themselves face to face with Zack and Durand. Jack grinned at his friend, gesturing to the basin of water in glee, but was puzzled and slightly hurt when Zack simply turned his face away. Zack slid his arm off Durand's shoulders and murmured a thank-you to him, then he limped over to the basin.

Jack blanched a little and followed him in, intending to use the second basin while Zack used the first. Zack had his back to him, still favoring one leg as he slowly and carefully unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, hissing slightly as his ribs pulled. Jack winced at the livid purple bruising that covered most of Zack's pale torso, then dragged his eyes away, pulling at his own shirt roughly, as he realized he was staring.

The two men bathed in silence. Jack was quietly awkward and guilty. He knew that he'd only flirted with Jacques because he was jealous of the easy camaraderie between Zack and Durand. Zack didn't. Zack didn't know, if he wanted to admit the truth, that Jack would much rather have been flirting with Zack instead. Zack was a roiling ball of jealousy, fear and confusion, all shoved deep down inside so he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of Jack. The man, Zack could finally admit to himself, who mattered more to him than anything else ever had.

They pulled on the plain clothes left for them by the French soldiers in equal silence. Both men stole glances at the other, both trying to will the other into speaking first, into ending the silence. It wasn't until Jack was doing up the middle button on his over coat that he finally broke.

"What is it, Zack-lad?" he internally winced at that, what a stupid way to start the conversation.

"You…" Zack shook his head, blushing and turned away.

"I, what?" Jack took a step closer to him, "Talk to me, Zack."

"You were flirting with him," it came out just above a whisper.

It was enough to make Jack wince, "Aye, lad… so I was…"

The soft sigh that escaped Zack as he did up the final button nearly broke Jack's heart. Jack took another step closer to him. Zack kept his head down, and turned away, trying to limp out on his own. He only made it halfway before he was hissing in pain and panting harshly to try and stop himself from crying out.

Jack walked over to him as quickly as his own injuries would let him, "Faith, Zack…" he hesitantly curled an arm around the other man's waist, trying to ignore the well of hurt when Zack pulled away, "Let me help…"

Zack's shoulders slumped in defeat and he stood still, not helping, but not pulling away either. Jack slid his arm around Zack's waist again and pulled the other man's arm around his shoulders, waiting until Zack had clutched his upper arm, before moving the two of them out and heading in the direction the French had said the makeshift kitchen was in. The two men limped into the kitchen. Jack eased Zack down at the empty table, then turned away and headed over to the stove where a French woman ladled some food into a bowl for him and Zack.

Setting a bowl down in front of Zack, Jack paused, fork halfway to his mouth, at the hurt in Zack's eyes, "What else is bothering you, Zack-lad? Does it bother you that I was flirting with Jacques?"

Zack's eyes flashed angrily at the use of the Frenchman's first name, but he quickly shoved it away, "Yes. It does bother me," he scooped up a forkful of food and stuffed it into his mouth.

Jack's eyes turned a deeper blue in their hurt, "Bloody hell, Zack!" he lowered his voice to a hiss, "I can't help that I like men more than women! If it bothers you that much, ask Goodman for a bloody transfer when we get outta here."

Zack shoved his bowl away, leaning over the table to hiss at him, "That's not what I mean, you stupid fool! It bothered me…" he paused, leaning back, shoulders slumping in defeat, "It bothered me because it wasn't me you were flirting with," he finished quietly.

Jack sat back, stunned, "Zack… I…" he shook his head, then laughed quietly, "We are a pair of bloody idiots."

Zack looked up, hardly daring to believe, "You mean…"

Jack gave him a wink, "I mean, if you've finished eating, we should take this elsewhere?"

Zack allowed Jack to help him up, feeling the warmth of Jack pressed up against him. He allowed himself to hope as Jack helped him up to the bedroom they'd been assigned by the Resistance. He let Jack ease him down onto one of the cots, a sense of loss filling him as Jack's warmth left him.

Jack sat down next to him, "Idiots, so we are…" he murmured.

"So you've said," Zack allowed himself a small smile.

"It needed saying more than once," Jack replied dryly, making Zack laugh.

Zack's laughter trailed off and Zack resisted the urge to bow his head as he asked, "So… you mean you…?"

Jack smiled fondly as Zack blushed furiously, "Bless you, Zack-lad, don't ever change," he shifted closer to Zack, sliding an arm around his waist, "Yes, you encyclopedic idiot, I love you."

Zack started, turning to look Jack in the face, "Love me?" his expression was unreadable.

Jack stuttered, now his turn to blush brightly, "Well… I…" he tried to disentangle his arm from around Zack's waist.

"Jack," Zack's soft murmur of his name stopped him far more effectively than the hand on his arm.

Jack looked back at him, raising his eyes to meet Zack's own soft brown ones. Zack held his eyes for a moment, looking a little nervous, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Then, slowly, leaving Jack plenty of time to pull away, Zack leaned in and pressed his lips to Jack's. Feeling the Irishman's lips curl up into a smile against his own, Zack allowed himself to fall into the kiss, eyes sliding closed and hands coming up to slide around Jack's shoulders.

Zack pulled away when oxygen became a necessity, leaning his head on Jack's forehead, panting softly. Jack grinned at him as he caught his breath. Then it was the Irishman's turn to lean in, capturing Zack's lips with his own, tangling his fingers into Zack's unruly hair.

They were both startled out of their skins when the door banged open. They leapt apart, Jack's chin accidentally making contact with Zack's nose. As Zack hissed and clutched at his nose, eyes watering, Jack turned to see what the disturbance was. A French soldier, radioman, by the looks, stood in the doorway, looking stunned.

Fumbling for an explanation, Jack stared wide-eyed right back, "Erm…"

The radioman snickered once, then fought it back, jabbering excitedly at them in French, "Vous devez venir avec moi, Messieurs. Nous avons votre commandant au bout du fil."

Zack blinked, then swore, ignoring the stinging pain in his nose as he hauled himself to his feet and tried to walk. He hissed. Jack launched himself up after him, scooping Zack's arm around his shoulders and curling his arm protectively around Zack's waist. Zack looked sheepishly down at him. Jack gave him a look of fond exasperation in return.

"Don't do that…" he grumbled, "Or at least bloody tell me what the fuss is all about."

"Goodman," Zack babbled excitedly, "They have Goodman on the line!"

"Bloody hell…" Jack breathed, face breaking into a grin, "Come on then, Zack-lad, tell the nice man to take us there!"

Jack limped along with Zack, the other man waving his free hand excitedly and switching back and forth between French and English and something Jack was sure had to be a squishing of both. He couldn't keep the grin off his face.

As Jack and Zack found their way through the French countryside, into a cave populated by the French Resistance, and found their way to each other, two radiomen were sitting in a quiet section of the cave, wires everywhere, a radio in front of each of them. One was dozing. The other had his feet on the desk and was busy making paper airplanes to throw at his sleeping colleague.

"Any Allied personnel, come in? Any Allied personnel, come in?"

The sleeping radioman was jolted into wakefulness with a snort, turning wide eyes to the radio. His colleague moved quicker, scooping up his headset and responding.

"Resistance reading you loud and clear," was sent back in clear, but accented, English, "What is your rank, clearance and location?"

"One moment… my superior will be better suited to answer that."

"Roger that," the radio operator frowned, gesturing to his office mate and clicking the radio onto mute, "Allez chercher Durand. C'est un message radio anglais."

The other Frenchman's eyes widened and he hurried out to fetch Durand. An English broadcast? That could only mean… The Englishmen! They were being searched for. He smiled. They were lucky, many commanders would simply dismiss them as casualties and leave them to rot. The radio operator watched his colleague move quickly out of the back room and turned back to the radio, flicking it off mute, just in time.

"Resistance, come in?" the radio operator raised an eyebrow as a new voice came over the line.

"Resistance reading you loud and clear," he repeated, "What is your rank, clearance and location?"

"Wing Commander Goodman, clearance level four, RAF Base Shepherdswell," Goodman wasted no time, "Two Englishmen have gone missing, shot down over enemy lines near Abbeville. Have you seen them?"

Durand came stalking into the room and gestured to the radio, "C'est lui l'officier anglais?" when he asked about Goodman, he received a nod from the operator, who ignored the radio in favor of his fellow Resistance man for a moment.

"Monsieur! Les Anglais! Ils veulent des nouvelles des Anglais!" the radio operator almost fell out of his seat in his excitement to get the news of the Englishmen's possible return to Durand.

"Vous allez devoir le lui demander," Durand looked frustrated that he couldn't speak to the Wing Commander himself.

"Sir, you are speaking to Robidoux. I have with me my superior officer Matthieu Durand. He does not speak English, so I will have to translate for him."

"Roger that."

"He wishes to make it known that we have two Englishmen here," Robidoux blanched slightly at the sharp, hopeful intake of breath from the Wing Commander, "A Flight Lieutenant Jack Hodgins and a Flying Officer Zack Addy."

"Oh thank the Lord…" was breathed quietly into the radio, before Goodman pulled himself together, "Tell your CO that those are my men," there was a small pause, "How are they?"

Robidoux turned to Durand, "Il s'agit de ses hommes. Il veut savoir comment ils vont. Dois-je lui faire un rapport complet?" Robidoux was sure Durand would take pity on the Wing Commander and include full details of the two men's conditions, but it was his duty to ask.

Durand gave him an almost dirty look and nodded, prompting Robidoux to turn back to the radio, "They are a little shaken. Flying Officer Addy has a sprained ankle and some bruised ribs. Flight Lieutenant Hodgins has a cut and a bruise on his head and a broken rib."

Durand turned to the second radio operator that had come to fetch him, "Allez chercher les Anglais."

Robidoux smiled in approval and added, "We can bring them to talk to you, sir, if you would like?"

The hope and heartfelt happiness in the Wing Commander's voice as he replied, "Please…" was almost tangible.

"Roger that," Robidoux responded, "Someone has been sent to collect them now."

The door banged open on its hinges, making Durand spin round, one hand on his sidearm. He let out a snort of laughter and relaxed as he saw Jack hobble as quickly as he could into the room, supporting Zack, who was still chattering excitedly, turning his head over his shoulder to try and talk to the radioman who had been sent to collect them.

"Pour des hommes avec des côtes cassées et des chevilles foulées, ils se déplacent plutôt vite, mon capitaine," the radioman said, sidling into the room and closing the door with more decorum.

Zack snorted at that, "He says we move fast for men with broken ribs and sprained ankles," he explained at Jack's confused look.

Robidoux bit back a laugh, turning back to the radio, "Sir? We have your men here. One moment while I get them organized."

"Roger that."


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Flying With You

**Author: **Hawkeye/Katy

**Beta: **Alex/Odysseus, Nox/BJ

**Fandom: **Bones, but very AU.

**Rating: **FRT

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

Jack stared at the radio on the desk as Goodman's voice came floating out. He tilted his head around to Zack, who had the same stunned look of shock on his face. Zack's eyes rose up to meet his. A small smile crossed his face, then broke into a broad grin. Jack let out a startled laugh. The French radioman, Robidoux, looked up at them both with a smile of his own. He stood up, gesturing Zack into the chair. Zack blinked, then sat down.

He picked up the equipment almost gingerly, despite the fact that he knew full well how to use it, "Sir?"

"Addy?" Goodman's hope-filled voice came across the line, "Addy, is that you?"

"Yessir," Zack's grin grew impossibly wider.

"Hodgins?"

Goodman, despite his previous grievances against Jack, sounded like all his Christmases had come at once when Jack leaned over Zack's shoulder.

"Aye, sir, I'm right here."

"It's good to hear you both," a soft chuckle came over the line, "Though I will deny that wholeheartedly should you choose to repeat it."

They both grinned at that, "Wouldn't dream of it, sir," Jack returned, still leaning over Zack's shoulder.

They could practically hear Goodman's raised eyebrow, "Indeed, Hodgins…" there was a slight pause and a sound almost like the rustling of papers could be heard, "There is a cargo ship crossing the Channel to Dover in four days time."

Zack quickly gestured back to Robidoux, who took command of the radio once again as Goodman continued, "If our French counterparts can get you to Calais…" he waited for a response.

Robidoux looked over at Durand. Durand tilted his head slightly as he listened to Zack's rapid-fire translation of everything Goodman had just said to them and nodded. Robidoux gave Durand a return nod and turned back to the radio.

"Sir? It is Robidoux again. I will handle all preparations necessary to bring your men home to you safely. Can you repeat your last call please?"

Goodman's voice came through, "Thank you, son. As I said, a cargo ship will be leaving Calais for Dover in four days time. If you can get my men to Calais, we can take it from there."

Durand had been listening to Zack's translation the entire time, "Dites-lui que nous allons assurer la sécurité de ses hommes jusqu'à ce qu'ils quittent le port de Calais."

"My CO wishes to inform you that we will see to your men's safety from now until they leave Calais," Robidoux dutifully repeated Durand's words.

"Thank you. Thank you very much," the relief in Goodman's voice could be heard even through the white noise on the radio.

"We will contact you closer to the date," Robidoux told Goodman, "It is dangerous if we keep this channel open too much longer."

"Roger that," Goodman returned, "And I shall contact you if any conditions change."

"Roger that," Robidoux repeated, "Resistance over and out."

Jack stared at the now silent radio. He looked over at Zack who was finishing a translation for Durand. When he finished, Zack turned and looked at Jack, face breaking into a slow grin. It was matched by the wide grin that crossed Jack's face. The Irishman let out a wild whoop that startled everyone in the room and threw his arm back around Zack's shoulder, enveloping him in a one-armed hug, mindful of both their injuries. Zack returned the awkward hug with equal fervor.

"We're going home…"


End file.
